Dire Trouble
by Lyon.The.Demon
Summary: An UnSub turns out to be several UnSubs, and the only agent to figure this out is bound in a dark cell, starving to death. What, if anything, can Spencer Reid do to let the team know where he is, or what happened to him?
1. Chapter 1

_A/N : Okay, I admit it; I'm stuck. I'll continue it, so this is to my faithful fans eagerly awaiting my next installment of 'A State Of Anger', not to worry. However, ideas on how to move the story along would be greatly appreciated either in a PM or a review on the story. I was thinking of adding yet another UnSub to throw them even further off Amy's tail while Reid himself closes in on her, but I'm not too sure. So please, give me a shout out, and in the meantime, here's another Criminal Minds fic to keep my mind and my fingers active. (I have WAY too much time on my hands.) xD_

_I own nothing. Except my ideas, my story line, my characters, my dialogue, my settings… (Rambles on about everything other than the characters from the show.)_

*** * ***

_**February** **17th**__, **2007**._

Darkness filled the tiny, cramped space where Reid sat, tied to a chair and slumped forward, his dirty brown hair hanging in strings over his pale face. His lips were dry and cracked, his throat; cotton dry and parched. When was the last time he'd had anything to drink…? He wondered absentmindedly, but as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it. It wasn't like it mattered that much anyway. Reid had given up all hope of his teammates finding him in time; evidently they still thought nothing of his 'paranoid comments' in which he had said repeatedly he thought someone was following him.

Stalking him.

He'd been right.

But of course, just as Reid had figured out who their UnSub was, he'd been knocked unconscious with a blow to the back of his head some time ago. None of the other BAU agents knew what he knew; that the UnSub, or rather, UnSubs… were part of a home grown gang, and that they had been putting down past gang members who'd wanted out. The Devil's Tyrants, they called themselves… But worse than the agents not knowing what they were up against… was the fact that they didn't know where their youngest member was, or how close to death he was. Hell, even Reid himself didn't know where he was.

Reid might have cried once more, but found that his tears had seemingly been exhausted. He didn't bother to move; not only was his body still sore from the brutal beating he'd received when he'd been captured, but his wrists were raw and dried blood was caked around them and the thick chains holding them behind the back of the chair. In the dark silence, his stomach growled; the only sound other than his harsh, ragged breathing.

When had the last time he'd eaten been…? Probably the last time he'd had something to drink; before his capture.

Reid closed his eyes, cutting out the darkness around him with an even deeper darkness, but his heart didn't race this time around; he'd become used to the hell he'd been brought into to die. He'd finally given up hope and excepted the fact that no one was coming to save him.

He'd never felt so lonely in his entire life…

*** * ***

**_January 23__rd__, 2007._**

Freshly fallen snow blanketed the grounds around the BAU office in Quantico, Virginia. Reid had just gotten out of his car and locked it, -not that anyone would want to steal an old piece of junk like that- and turned around to head through the back doors, shivering all the while in his bulky, light brown coat. He'd checked the thermometer outside his apartment before he left, reading it as twenty-one degrees. It felt a hell of a lot colder than that. The wind was blowing sharply at his ears, uncovered by his damned habit of brushing his hair behind his ears, but Reid took comfort in the fact that in just a few minutes, he'd be inside the building, warming his freezing body in the bullpen, as the heater was cranked up for the winter months.

But then Reid noticed; there was something besides the howling of the harsh winter wind in his ears. It was the sound of crunching snow; the sound of someone walking through the white, freezing flakes that hadn't been brushed aside by the snowplows and shovels. Standing as still as he could, his gloved hand on the door of the BAU office, Reid strained his already numb ears to hear the sound more, but it seemed to have stopped.

'I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy…' Reid thought to himself, more as a chant than anything, closing his eyes tightly and quickly moving through the doors, not even turning around to see the man dressed in complete black that he knew he'd see in the distance.

He had to try again, Reid thought, then walking down the hall, the bullpen quickly coming into view. He had to try and get Hotch or Morgan or _someone_ to believe that he wasn't just hearing things; he had to get someone to believe he wasn't turning schizo…

Schizophrenia… shaking off the unnerving thought that he actually could, indeed, be turning down that mentally disastrous road, Reid continued walking, pushing through the glass doors to the bullpen. He couldn't think of how his mother had acted when her signs started appearing; he wouldn't think of how hereditary the mental disease was… And he _definitely _wouldn't think of the fact his mother had been his own age when her symptoms first started.

Taking a deep breath, young Spencer Reid noticed his legs had taken him to Hotch's office far quicker than he could have normally gotten there, but he didn't stop to think that he might have been jogging the entire way. All his mind was focused on was getting Hotch to believe him, and Reid had just raised his hand to knock on his superior's door when a blonde haired female suddenly rounded the corner, scaring him and nearly knocking him off his feet. With a startled gasp, Reid only too late realized said woman was J.J., friend and partner at the BAU.

"You alright?" she asked, her voice laced with concern as her eyebrows shot upward.

"Y-yeah… a-actually, no, no I'm not alright, J.J.-" Reid stuttered out, ready to explain to her about the footsteps, an argument already forming in the back of his mind how he wasn't becoming schizophrenic over night when the door behind them opened up.

Aaron Hotchner was revealed to the both of them, his dark eyebrows furrowed in confusion at seeing two of his agents standing right outside his doorway, his face stony and grim; like always. Hotch's mouth opened to say something, or probably to ask something, when J.J. shook her head and said quickly, holding up a brown case file with the letters FBI printed across the front on the seal,

"They just found a new body. They say this guy had been missing for over a week, but no one reported him gone. Single gun-shot wound to the head, starved to the point of mal-nutrition before that."

Hotch nodded, and moved out of the door, his feet taking him toward the round-table room, where they would hold their briefing as he spoke to J.J.,

"Any connections between the victims?"

"None sir, that's why they're, -and we're- so stumped…" J.J. replied, walking with him, leaving Spencer behind, standing in front of the now open door, his mouth slightly agape.

Shaking his head, Reid tried to put his own troubles in the back of his mind; there was work to be done, and he knew very well that the team that relied on him needed Reid at his best. He couldn't let them down; the stalker would just have to wait.

Moving quickly to catch up to J.J. and Hotch, Reid stuffed his hands deeply into his pockets, shaking his head every now and again and reciting within his head,

'I'm not crazy… I'm not crazy…'

*** * ***

"Man, this guy's getting braver and braver…" Morgan said, shaking his head frustratedly and slamming down the file of Gerald Rodriguez, the latest victim they'd found.

"He's probably devolving; getting more and more anxious and needing to kill more often. He's bound to make a mistake soon…" Prentiss offered, refusing to look at the pictures anymore.

They weren't as horrifyingly gruesome as some of the pictures they had to look at, but after a week of studying the files and case, trying and failing to catch the UnSub, just about every profiler in the conference room was ready to be done with this case once and for all.

"But that wouldn't really fit, now would it…?" Rossi asked, his gaze searching the faces around the table as he leaned back in his chair. "An UnSub devolving wouldn't leave the victims to starve; he'd toss them around, kill them right away, and stash the body somewhere. But the hiding place wouldn't be as meticulous as the previous places had been; like this one had been. He would have already left some kind of clue; he would have already made a mistake. Had he been devolving."

"So why leave a victim for us to find, and take another one so soon? He should have waited at least another two weeks before kidnapping someone else, if he'd stuck to his original M.O.." Hotch replied, his hand finding his dark hair and running through it; a gesture of frustration, of helplessness.

"There must have been something done to force him to change…" Reid offered. "Maybe he felt like we were closing in on him…?"

"How could we be closing in on him, pretty boy? We've barely even got a list of suspects here…!" Morgan ranted, but no one at the table corrected him that they did indeed have a list of suspects; the reason why no one corrected him being they hadn't found anyone fitting the semi-completed profile off of that list.

No one bothered to try and calm him down, or chastise him, either, for they all knew that they needed to blow off some steam. This case had been trying their nerves from day one, and they were no closer to an answer one week and two days later from taking on the case of a serial killer in their home of Quantico, Virginia.

Everyone at the table had fallen silent; the need to profile and catch this creep who eluded them burning strong despite the overwhelming odds against them. They had no clues, next to no evidence, and naught but a small, half-assed, semi-complete profile of a man who could very well be exactly the opposite of what they had depicted him as.

Finally, Hotch looked up, his eyes unusually sad while at the same time being hard as stone.

"Keep digging around; see if you can't find any connection through the families, friends, old work buddies, school friends, school bullies; anyone. I'm heading to Strauss's office, to see if she's found anything more for us from the confiscated items at the scene. J.J., will you come with me?"

The blonde nodded, and then the both of them were gone, leaving Morgan, Rossi, Prentiss and Reid alone to stare at the photos of the victims and the standing map in which all the dump site locations were marked in red. All in all, there were thirteen now. The supposed unlucky number.

*** * ***

**_February 17__th__, 2007._**

Reid's eyes snapped open, his breathing coming in panicked gasps; had he just heard footsteps…? A shiver wracking his body, Reid tried to calm his breathing and strain his ears for any sound at all, and finally caught the sound that had startled him out of his thoughts; a rat, scurrying somewhere… somewhere close.

And then Reid jumped, giving a loud yelp of fear as something fuzzy crawled quickly over his bare feet. The movement jarred his already sore body and raw wrists, making him yell out in pain again, tears starting to mist over his eyes. Reid whimpered in the darkness, certain that whoever heard him was laughing at him now. It was getting colder, and there was nothing he could do. He was tied, helpless, and alone…

So alone…

*** * ***

_Don't forget to Review!! _


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N : Okay, I admit it; I'm stuck. I'll continue it, so this is to my faithful fans eagerly awaiting my next installment of 'A State Of Anger', not to worry. However, ideas on how to move the story along would be greatly appreciated either in a PM or a review on the story. I was thinking of adding yet another UnSub to throw them even further off Amy's tail while Reid himself closes in on her, but I'm not too sure. So please, give me a shout out, and in the meantime, here's another Criminal Minds fic to keep my mind and my fingers active. (I have WAY too much time on my hands.) xD_

_I own nothing. Except my ideas, my story line, my characters, my dialogue, my settings… (Rambles on about everything other than the characters from the show.)_

_*** * ***_

_February 17th__, 2007._

Spencer Reid shivered convulsively, as he did every night in the dark cell that would end up his grave. There wasn't any light to judge by; it was just a complete and total black here, but he knew the days and nights by the change in temperature. It was definitely the middle of the night. His eyes were slowly being dragged downward by the force of several nights gone without sleep, but Reid fought it. He fought it because even as he continued to tell himself he had given up hope, there was still a small glimmer of childish hope that as long as he stayed coherent, something would happen; something good. That he'd be saved like the people in the stories he would read as a kid.

But he was unable to continue fighting the need for sleep, and his eyes finally closed, his body slumping forward and into a restless slumber, filled with dreams and nightmares generated by a fearful mind and hurting body…

*** * ***

_January 24__th__, 2007._

Reid raised a hand to rub at his eyes, suppressing a yawn. Then, using that same hand, he reached out and grabbed the plastic cup he'd filled with coffee about ten minutes ago, and grimaced when he held the cup to his lips and found it was empty. Thinking deeply, Reid replaced the cup on his desk and moved into an Indian-style sitting position in the office chair, then using his hand to push himself off the desk, sending him into a slow, spinning motion.

And spinning, Reid continued to think. Thirteen men dead; first profiler thought, they were all men. Granted they were Hispanic, Caucasian, short, tall, with all kinds of differences varying, but they were all men. Normally when you had a serial killer targeting a specific gender, you had a few different possibilities. Sexual motives; in which the UnSub has an 'affair' with the victim, either alive or dead. There were no indicators that the crimes were motivated by sexual needs, nor had anyone been reported back at the scene, which ruled out sexual motives.

The next possibility would be revenge. A hate crime; a vendetta against those who looked like someone who had wronged him in the past or recently. In those particular crimes, the UnSub would choose a particular grueling fashion in which to take revenge, in most cases mutilating the body beyond recognition, cutting limbs off of the body before or after death, and then dumping the body where everyone would see what had been done.

But not only did the victims have nothing in common feature wise or background wise, there was no sign of hate. Just a single gunshot wound to the head and a severely empty stomach.

Sighing, Reid let the chair slow as he slowly thought out the victims in his head. There had to be something they were all missing here. Just one, single gunshot wound to the forehead made it seem like an execution of some sort, but why go through the trouble of kidnapping and starving the victim for a week before killing him? There had to be some kind of hate here…

Or maybe… it was a punishment…

Letting his feet hit the ground, Reid reached over to the file laying open on his desk and looked through the photos of the victims and the places they had been found. They had all been found near or in dumpsters, their clothes dirtied with garbage… like it was some type of degradation…

But why would the UnSub want to punish seemingly random people…? Unless, they weren't really random…

Taking a shaky breath, Reid closed the file and looked up, and was startled to find he was the only BAU agent in the bullpen. It was barely even eleven at night, and yet it seemed as if everyone had already gone home. Of course, Reid couldn't blame them; the case was wearing everyone down and they needed a little sleep every now and again. In fact, so did he… His brows furrowing, Reid finally gave up on the case for that night, standing up and taking his heavy coat off the back of his chair, slipping it on while gathering up the case file and holding it securely in his arms. He could work on it a bit more when he got home, and in the morning he'd have Garcia check to see if the victims all had a dealing of some sort with an unknown person that barely even registered on the radar.

It was a long shot, but it was something worth looking into on a case such as this one, where you had next to nothing to go on. Reid glanced up to make sure he wouldn't hit anything, as had been his habit lately, before he took the first step forward toward the door. He'd been running into so many things and people lately, it was a wonder he hadn't broken everything in the bullpen at least once. But then a bit of movement caught his eye. Glancing around, Reid assured himself that it was just the janitor, picking up the trash and everything it was that janitors did, but his heart began racing when he realized the man wasn't moving.

He was just standing there, staring at Reid.

And then it was as if he was frozen; paralyzed. Reid knew it was irrational, but it felt as if he couldn't move. His heart was hammering in his throat, blood was roaring in his ears, and he was shaking.

'I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy, I'm not crazy…' he continued to chant within his mind.

Reid watched as the unknown person finally looked away from Reid and began emptying a basket of trash into a bigger bin, and even though the feeling of being rooted to his spot faded, Reid was still shaking as he made a quick break for the exit.

*** * ***

Standing outside the door, Reid was still shaking, though this time it was from worry rather than the piercing eyes of someone who he didn't know. Still chanting 'I'm not crazy' in his head, Reid raised his hand and knocked on the door again, this time a bit louder, still wondering a bit worriedly if he'd be turned away. Finally, the door opened after several clicks of the locks being loosened, and his supervisor stood in the doorway, looking surprised at finding an agent standing outside.

"Reid, what are you-" Hotch started to say groggily; didn't Reid know what time it was…? But Spencer interrupted him before he could get anything else out.

"Please, I'm really sorry to come knocking this late at night, but I really didn't want to go back to my apartment…"

Reid then paused, not completely sure how he should phrase his fears, and decided to just plunge head first.

"There was a man at the bullpen, and he was staring at me. And I've never seen him before, and I know no one had hired any new personnel. And yesterday morning, I heard footsteps behind me right before I walked into the BAU office and I'm scared, Hotch…"

Reid knew he really shouldn't, but being in the state of both panic and fear, Reid put on his best tortured face, knowing that if he stood there in front of his superior for long enough, looking like a frightened child, Hotch's expression would melt and then he would sigh, and let him in.

Which, sure enough, happened.

"Just for tonight," Hotch mumbled, and his eyes watched Reid scramble through the doorway, heading for the couch. "We'll talk about this in the morning."

Reid inwardly cringed as he situated himself on the couch, knowing that tomorrow morning wouldn't be all that fun for either of them. But he had to make Hotch understand that he wasn't going crazy; he had to make the older man aware that someone was stalking Reid…!

That was the thought Reid fell asleep nurturing…

*** * ***

_February 17__th__, 2007._

Reid slowly became conscious again, though his eyes remained closed. In the back of his mind, a little voice was practically screaming at him; telling him to open his eyes. Because if he didn't… if he just let himself go back to sleep… what would happen if he never woke up again…? Unable to help it, Reid continued to keep his eyes closed, drifting in and out of a conscious state, all the while thinking to himself,

'What did I ever do to deserve this…?'

**~ * * * ~**

"For we pay a price for everything we get or take in this world; and although ambitions are well worth having, they are not to be cheaply won."

- Lucy Maud Montgomery

**~ * * * ~**

_A/N : Another chapter up! Once again, don't forget to review!! I practically LIVE on your feedback. xD_


	3. Chapter 3

_**January 25th, 2007.**_

"Talk."

Just one simple word and it still made Reid cringe, though it wasn't completely out of fear. Reid looked downward, into the cup of coffee he was nurturing before bringing it to his lips, buying him a few more seconds as he thought over his answer. Hotch was still sitting in the arm chair, directly across from his younger agent, watching him with a stony expression. Both were already dressed, Hotch being… well, Hotch, and Reid having slept in his clothes from yesterday.

Finally, Reid lowered his cup from his lips and licked then, though they were moist enough from the scalding liquid that had just passed over them. Lowering his eyes for a second, then thinking better of it and raising his eyes to meet those of his superior's, he recounted every incident that had happened to him in the past week; the time that they had been working on their strange and infuriating case. Through the lengthy explanation Reid gave, he started to gain a little confidence as he saw that Hotch continued to sit unmoving in front of him, watching him carefully. He was listening almost intently, and his face showed no disgust or impatience. So it caught Reid off guard when Hotch stood up at the end of Reid's little speech, sighing and raking his hand through his hair.

"Reid, I think this job is starting to get to you. Maybe you need to take a few personal days, get yourself back in order, come back once this case is finished…"

"N-no!" Reid stood up as well, his head swimming from standing up so quickly, the coffee in his cup sloshing around dangerously close to the rim. "O-okay, maybe I'm being a bit paranoid, you don't have to pull me off! I'll be fine!"

Reid swallowed then as Hotch turned back around to look at him, doubt clearly showing in his eyes. Reid found that his heart was pounding, his ears ringing at the thought of losing the only thing that kept him sane in the day hours; his job. There was a reason he rarely ever took time for himself, and that was to keep his running mind occupied with things that were safe; things that didn't remind him of his past, his dreams… or now the stalker. He still believed he was being stalked, but it wasn't worth being pulled out of the only thing that was half-way normal in his life.

And so Reid stayed standing there, willing as hard as he could for Hotch to believe his words. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, Hotch nodded his head then moved toward the door, motioning with his hand for Reid to follow. Glancing quickly at the clock, Reid found himself shocked to find that it was that late already. Had they really been talking for that long…?

*** * ***

**_January 29__th__, 2007._**

Reid could still feel eyes on him; it was worse than before, made unbearable by the fact that he couldn't say anything to anyone, least he be taken away from the BAU for who knows how long. Shivering slightly, Reid continued to look over the case, the photos of the last three victims, found grouped together in a snow covered dumpster; that much hadn't changed. This had been the first time any clusters of bodies had been found, and it was surprising to find that all three men were brothers.

These murders just had to be connected in some way…

He'd been forgetting to have Garcia work her magic on their backgrounds to look for a common person who might have ended up below the radar on more general searches due to all the excitement of running around and checking the bodies and the dump sites as they appeared. It was starting to get down to one or two bodies found per day, and it was getting very strenuous. In fact, he'd heard Hotch talking to Strauss yesterday evening about taking the team off the case. He said there was just too little to go on, and the team needed to refresh themselves. They'd been at it for almost two weeks now, and they still had a half-assed profile and empty hands.

Sighing heavily, Reid turned over a paper, reading the back of the report telling how the three bodies had been found; their clothes ripped and torn off though there was no sign of sexual abuse, covered with dirt and grime and snow, each with a single gunshot wound to the head…

Reaching up to rub his temples, Reid let his gaze lift and wander over the bullpen, only to find J.J. half jogging, half walking tiredly to Hotch, who was standing by Morgan's desk as the two conversed. Reid only caught snippets of the conversation, but found out that yet another body had been found, and the local chief of police had called them in to take a look. Heads nodded and Morgan stood before looking over at Reid, though Rossi, who had just rounded a corner and evidently heard the conversation as well, spoke up before Morgan had a chance to.

"Come on Reid, looks like we've got yet another site to look over…" but his voice was anything but encouraging.

They were all haggard and tired and sick of this case; Reid couldn't blame them. But instead of nodding and standing, Reid shook his head and said,

"You guys go on ahead. I wanted to talk with Garcia about the case, have her look up a few things."

Rossi and Morgan instantly nodded, knowing that if anything, Reid and Garcia would be the ones to see what they were missing, J.J., however, looked worried, and Hotch looked… well, he didn't look normal. He was staring at Reid like there was something wrong with him…

Reid held his breath, and pretended to look over the case files again, and finally they left him for the scene. Chancing a look upward at the now empty bullpen, Reid grimaced. Ever since that one night Reid had gone to Hotch's apartment, it was like Hotch was looking for reasons to take him off the case now. Abnormal behavior, glances around, anything and everything that was able to be profiled was profiled. Shaking his head and standing up, Reid tried to put his superior out of his head and gathered up the photos. Then he shivered; the feeling of having eyes on his back suddenly evident again. Trying to ignore the feeling, Reid hurried a bit faster than he normally would have into Garcia's tech room.

The blonde woman glanced up from her computers, obviously surprised; she must have known about the newest findings as well. But Reid silenced whatever she had been about to say with a sudden,

"Garcia, I need you to look in the background of all the victims, see if there was anyone who conducted business or services below the radar."

"Oh, uh, alright, give me a sec."

Garcia turned around, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she said then,

"You're gonna need to give me something more to work with, or we're gonna have a hellava time sorting through all the hits I'm getting."

"Um… look for… gang-related dealings… red-light district dealings, um…" Reid then shook his head. "I don't know. Try with those first, and we'll see what we get."

"Alright sweet-cheeks, but it's going to take a while, even with my magic working brilliance."

"That's fine…" Reid said, shivering again.

He was glad Garcia couldn't see him, as he was standing behind her chair and her main focus was the information revealing itself on the screens around her. With everyday, the feeling of being watched and stalked kept getting worse…

*** * ***

**_February 17__th__, 2007._**

God, he was so hungry…

Reid awoke to the sound of his stomach growling in protest to it's emptiness. His eyelids were still very heavy, and Reid hadn't much energy anymore. The stench in the small cell like room made his stomach roll even harder, threatening to hurl what contents it had past his already burning dry throat. Even the thought made his eyes water. His body was sore all over from not only the beating he'd received, but from slipping in and out of consciousness in one position for over… how long had it been now…? Five days? Six?

He'd lost count…

That wasn't good… If he'd been missing for about a week…

…

Tears came easier to his eyes as he realized he couldn't even finish his own thought… his mind wasn't working right anymore, shutting down, not enough sustenance to keep him going…

Opening his mouth in a futile effort, he choked out a hoarse and fearful,

"Help… me…"

*** * ***

_A/N : Another chapter up! Once again, don't forget to review!! I practically LIVE on your feedback. XD_


	4. BAU POV

_A/N : Alright, this is for all of you who so desperately have asked for a look into the present, I need to say that this entire story is based on basically Reid's point of view. They're his memories from the past, telling how he got to be in that place, and what happened to him previous. However, I will go ahead and put up one chapter that's from the rest of the team's point of view. Just remember and review the story for me, and tell me if it helps with your anxiety a little, okay? xD Lol. Also, quick side note, make sure to pay attention to the dates._

*** * ***

**_February 6th__, 2007._**

It sounded like a damn gunshot.

Hotch glared at Morgan, but the motion was lost on the agent as he was facing away from his superior, lowering his foot from kicking the dumpster. Hotch had heard Prentiss and J.J. shriek because of the loud noise, and he couldn't blame them. He had jumped a little himself, but of course his stoic face didn't show his fear, nor did he show his anger. Hotch knew they were all on edge right now, but he still couldn't help but want to take his anger out on Morgan for the simple fact that the large man wasn't making it any easier on the rest of the team.

Gritting his teeth and counting to ten, Hotch lowered his gaze to the body that had been moved from the dumpster to the snow dusted ground. Again, another gunshot to the wound. But the UnSub had gone back to just killing one person now… It didn't make that much sense. An UnSub who escalated to three victims, and yet another victim at a separate time, but still in one day, shouldn't have stopped killing shortly thereafter, then have just one victim turn up a week later… It didn't make any sense at all…!

Sighing loudly, Hotch watched at the mist his breath made in the cold air; it was 8 degrees the last time he checked the thermometer, and that was about four hours ago; night had fallen two hours ago. Blue and red lights lit up the frosty night as the BAU members stood around the female body, semi-nude and beat to high hell. Shaking his head, Hotch looked up at the three agents who'd come with him to the scene. Morgan was still facing away from the body, talking to the cops at the end of the alleyway, his hands shoved inside his coat pockets, his head hanging slightly.

J.J. and Prentiss were huddled together just a few feet from the body, discussing different profiling strategies for the UnSub they had yet to really nail a profile to.

After all, everything was changing so fast… there were several inconsistencies with the M.O., and nothing seemed to be the same, all except for the dump sites and the bullet wound in the head… It had to be some sort of execution. But who… and why? There were no connections to the victims that they'd found yet…

"Hey, Hotch… Come here and look at this…" Rossi suddenly said, having crouched down by the body while Hotch was lost in thought.

Giving another soft sigh, Hotch moved closer to Rossi and crouched down as well, looking over the body and saying quietly,

"Did you find something…?"

In answer, Rossi lifted up the hair on the right side of the victim's face, right behind the left ear, revealing the letters 'DT' etched in the side of her skin, like a tattoo. Suddenly standing up quickly, not really caring about drawing the other's attention, Hotch said a bit louder than before,

"And we just now found this? Do we know if the other victims had this mark…?"

Rossi shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, standing up as well as he replied,

"I don't know. This is the first I've seen it, but I can call some people, get the other bodies checked out for the same mark."

"You do that, I'll call Garcia and have her run a check on-" Hotch started to say, pulling out the phone just as it started to vibrate.

Pausing for a minute, Hotch blinked, momentarily stunned at the fact it was Garcia calling him before he flipped it open and answered it.

"Hotchner."

"_Um, sir, I'm worried about Reid."_

"Who isn't?" Hotch answered tiredly, raising two fingers and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look, Garcia, I'm glad you called. I need you to-"

"_N-no, sir, I don't think you understand. He's acting all jumpy and-"_

"Yes, Garcia, I do understand." he replied, a bit more forcefully than needed, and felt remorseful the instant the female voice didn't reply. "Sorry, I'm just a bit stressed, and I need you to hear me out. I need you to run a check on backgrounds for the victims again; this time with gangs, narcotics dealers, anything with the initials-"

"_DT."_

Hotch blinked, stunned again. Staring at the alley wall, Hotch swallowed and said,

"Alright, Garcia, you've got my attention. What was bugging you about Reid?"

"_Sir, Reid already had me run background checks, and I found a good hit with a gang that's been flying a ways below the radar, calling themselves The Devil's Tyrants, or 'DT.' They deal mostly in smuggling illegal drugs and weapons across state lines and even the Mexico and Canada Borders. They seem to have a strict code of brotherhood, and initiation is pretty rough. And the only reason I have this knowledge is because there've been several people breaking off from the gang, calling it 'too dangerous' and 'deviating off the original missions.'_

"_There are some, however, who've started a new group, taking on The Devil's Tyrants members and turning them into hard core missionaries out for blood and drugs for their own needs. This spin off they supposedly call Dire Trouble, evidently the only thing they could come up with since they already have the letters DT etched onto their skin. Every Devil's Tyrants member has the letters tattooed onto their skin, but in various places. The head, behind the ear, the back of the leg, anything. But no two members have the same initials in the same place._

"_But the thing that really worries me is that these Devil's Tyrants? Don't take shit from everyone. The gang once went on a murder spree all because on person accidentally stumbled onto their lair. They killed him, his family, his friends and neighbors, and everyone who witnessed or may have witnessed the murders. Sir, Reid's been restless and constantly on the look out, and before that I'd over heard him talking to you about someone stalking him." _her voice became shaky. _"S-sir… what if it was the gang that was stalking him?"_

Right about now, Hotch wanted to do two things. Number one was to throw up, and number two was to kick himself in the ass for being so stupid and writing Reid's fears off as if they were nothing. Swallowing with some difficulty, Hotch spoke past the rapidly forming lump in his throat.

"Garcia, make sure Reid doesn't go any where alone for right now. Keep him at the office, I don't care what you tell him, just don't let him out of your sight-"

"_I-I can't do that, sir… he's… already headed back home. I can call him, tell him to come back as fast as he can…"_

Closing his eyes at the dizzying feeling of fear, Hotch's voice lowered to a mere whisper as he said hurriedly,

"Yes, do that right now."

Then Hotch clicked the phone shut, not wanting Garcia to spare another moment, even if it was just to answer him. Pocketing the phone, Hotch looked up at Rossi and Morgan, who were looking at him strangely. In the cold night, Hotch realized he must look pretty pale, but that didn't stop him from saying quickly,

"I think I may have made a grave error. Rossi, DT stands for Devil's Tyrants, and they're a gang. A spin off of the original gang, calling themselves Dire Trouble seem to be killing the members of the original DT because they wanted out. And I think… that DT is stalking Reid. We need to get back to the office A.S.A.P.."

With a nod from the rest of the group, the BAU agents set off quickly, heading for the BAU building.

*** * ***

"Come on, come on…!" Garcia said nervously, standing up and pacing around, her nerves tightly strung as the phone kept ringing.

Nothing but the ringing filled the tech room.

"Pick up Reid…! Please…!"

Garcia was close to tears as she sat down, lifted and replaced the phone, then dialed Reid's cell number again and waited.

Again, the phone did nothing but ring.

*** * ***

_Extra A/N : Alright, there you go, my loyal and desperate fans. Lol, no offence. Once again, don't forget to review!! I practically LIVE on your feedback. Also, remember to tell me if you want another chapter following up the events in this one. It might be a little confusing at first, but I'll label the chapters that deviate away from Reid's point of view as BAU POV, so you can all tell the difference. Thanks for reading, and for reviewing._

_- Lyon_


	5. Chapter 4

**_February 2nd, 2007._**

It was cold today; it had been cold yesterday too. It was always cold… Did the sun every shine anymore? Reid thought absently, closing and locking the door of his apartment while slipping on his heavy winter coat, shivering already even though he wasn't outside yet. There was still a draft and it was bad enough to make him pull up the hood of his coat and lift his gloved hands to his mouth. He was shivering badly as he walked down the corridor, and hesitated before he opened the door to the outside.

It felt like an arctic wind was trying to blast him backward, practically screaming for him to crawl back in bed under his still warm covers.

Reid had almost never had that high of a tolerance for the cold, and he could never understand why. Nonetheless, it was there and he had to deal with it. Walking out to his beat up old junk-pile of an automobile, Reid suddenly felt eyes on his back yet again. His breathing hitched and a shiver that was completely unrelated to the cold around him wracked through his body, but this time he'd done what he hadn't dared to do for a while. He turned around and let his brown gaze lock onto that of a man dressed completely in black, standing in contrast to the white snow around him.

Standing completely too close to Reid for comfort, even though he had to be several yards away. Swallowing and clearing his throat so hopefully it wouldn't sound as shaky when he spoke, Reid suddenly called out,

"Who are you?"

No answer was forthcoming. Holding his car keys almost like a weapon, he waited a few seconds before trying again.

"What do you want?"

"For you to know we're watching you…" the answer finally came.

The deep voice sent shivers up and down Reid's spine, the cold momentarily forgotten in the sudden shock of fear and panic. The words had been spoken in a normal tone of voice, a calm voice at that, and they had been hard to catch. But there his answer was, and Reid didn't like it one bit. This time, as Reid called out, he couldn't keep his voice from shaking.

"Do I know you…?"

"No." the man replied, then turning around and starting to walk off.

Reid relaxed for just a moment before he saw the man stop, and turn halfway back to face Reid, then calling out,

"But you will."

Reid didn't wait for the man to turn around again before he was fumbling with the door of his car, trying to unlock it, thinking that if he was in his car, he was at least safer than he was out in the open…

*** * ***

Reid was still shaken up over the encounter several hours later, even though he was safely tucked away behind his desk in the bullpen, several federal officers surrounding him. That thought gave him no comfort, however, as he remembered that one man who had been watching him, acting like a janitor. Everyone could very well be following him; stalking him, and it was making him completely nervous to be anywhere now. Throwing anxious glances over his shoulder, Reid jumped back as he suddenly realized a dark headed man in black was standing at his desk, dangerously close. Uttering a cry of,

"Holy shit!" Reid fell over in his office chair, taking several case files with him, causing papers to fly out around the both of them.

However, it wasn't the deep voice of the man he'd met earlier today that penetrated his panic; it was the voice of his superior, Hotch, and he sounded irritated.

"Mind repeating that, Reid?"

Glancing up at Hotch, trying to right himself into a sitting position but failing horribly, as in his fall he'd somehow hit his shoulder and the stinging pain let him know he'd have a massive bruise there later this evening.

"I-I, uh, n-no sir… S-sorry sir…" Reid managed to stutter out, shaking visibly.

"What's the matter with you lately?" Hotch raised his eyebrow, and Reid couldn't help the fact that his breathing hitched once more.

He couldn't tell Hotch about the encounter he'd had before; Hotch would take him off the case! Desperately searching his oversized brain for an excuse that his superior might believe, Reid gave an inward sigh of relieve when J.J. called over to Hotch, being unable to see Reid as he was still cowering under the desk, where he had fallen.

"Hotch, we've got another body."

"Can it wait?" Hotch replied, his eyes still watching Reid closely.

"Actually, sir, it can't. The M.O.'s changed."

This finally diverted Hotch's attention away from Reid, and he turned toward J.J., his normally stoic face showing a bit of shock.

"It's what? How?"

"The body this time is female. It's the first female they've found since the killings began, and they're wondering if it's the same killer at all." J.J. replied, then reaching out to show him the picture of the victim.

Hotch took the picture from her and looked it over as J.J. suddenly realized that Reid was laying in a pile of papers and files, underneath the desk. Her brows furrowed and she asked,

"What are you doing down there?"

"I-I-" Reid started to stutter out, but Hotch shook his head, interrupting.

"I'd like to go see the dump site. It doesn't look like that much has changed, there's still a gunshot wound to the head that I'm assuming was the main cause of death, but I'll want an autopsy report on whether or not the victim was starved a week before death or not. Also, I'd like you and Morgan to come with me."

Hotch's voice left no room for debate, nor did he stay for one as he quickly moved away, obviously agitated. J.J. stuck around for all of five seconds, staring at Reid and opening and closing her mouth a few times, before quickly moving off to follow Hotch. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Reid slowly yanked himself upright using the very desk that had hit his shoulder in the fall. Pain was shooting through his body and he grimaced, his heart still pounding.

And amid all the commotion in the bullpen, he could feel eyes on his back again…

Reid shivered convulsively and set about to picking up the mess around his desk before anyone else saw it.

*** * ***

**_February 17th, 2007._**

Voices…

There were… voices. Above him.

Reid groaned softly, unsurprised when his voice cracked from non-use. It was cold again; extremely cold, and Reid's body shivered at the thought, though it had already been shaking slightly anyway. His stomach growled; he was in dire need of sustenance, otherwise he would soon die of starvation. In fact…

He could already be dying…

His eyes were already closing when he suddenly realized what his brain had registered a few minutes ago; or was it seconds…? Hours…?

Focus! He mentally scolded himself, then straining his ears. He'd heard voices before; maybe the team had finally figured out where he was…! Maybe they'd come to save him…!

Or maybe… Dire Trouble was back…

Fighting back tears, the information from the other kills suddenly flooded his brain.

Beaten severely; starved for about a week before abduction, degraded, shot in the head, disposed of.

Reid shivered as he continued to listen, his mind growing increasingly fuzzy no matter how hard he tried to fight it. And then he was reduced to tears; full blown, mind shattering and body shaking tears.

There were footsteps coming closer to the door that he couldn't see; and the footsteps seemed to slow and calm to be anyone coming to rescue him.

*** * ***

_A/N : Alright, there you go, my loyal and desperate fans. Lol, no offence. Once again, don't forget to review!! I practically LIVE on your feedback. And also remember to pay close attention to the dates; they're the little bit of sanity in the mess that is my story. Lol._

_- Lyon_


	6. Chapter 5

_A/N : It's been brought to my attention that a balance of past and present will be necessary for this story to keep a good audience who expects a writers talents at their best, satisfied, and so the next chapter will be a BAU POV. I hope this will help with the telling of the story, and I'll most likely be doing a few more chapters from the BAU's POV. Don't forget to review and tell me how I'm doing, and remember, even criticism helps. Thank you so much for your comments and suggestions, and enjoy!_

*** * ***

_**February 6th, 2007.**_

Brushing his hair out of the way of his eyes, Reid licked his lips, staring at the computer screen in front of him and Garcia with a frightened expression on his face. DT, standing for Devil's Tyrants, or more specifically, Dire Trouble. How ironic, Reid brain thought, as he listened to Garcia ramble off facts about how the second gang of DT came to be. How ironic that the people after him described his situation perfectly, because if this gang was truly after him, he was indeed in dire trouble.

But it would make sense; the killings. A single gunshot wound to the head, the degradation; they were ex-members of Devil's Tyrants, and those who had refused to join up with the new DT. It was as simple as that. So why then were they following _him,_ of all agents, Reid thought, sweat forming on his brow. They could have just as easily followed Morgan, Hotch…

But the answer was at the front of his brain before he even had time to finish his pondering thought.

Reid was the weakest link. After all, he wasn't muscular, he looked like a damned college student…!

"Hey, Reid, check this out…!" Garcia said excitedly, catching Reid's attention and bringing him out of his thoughts. "Says here that Mallory Hedrickson, owner of a bar a few cities over, was a member of the Devil's Tyrants, but when people started leaving, he mysteriously disappeared. He took with him half the bar's stock of alcohol, almost all the cigarettes and cigars, and twelve-hundred dollars in cash from the register. Basically left the bar and it's business in ruin, and he never resurfaced. This was about… three years ago. What's spooky…?" Garcia then lowered her voice and said with a smile. "This is around the same time Dire Trouble was formed."

"So he contributed to the cause…?" Reid asked, but Garcia replied with a shake of her head and a chuckle as she said,

"Doesn't sound like that's all it was. Several late, ex-members had given reports of Mallory being the second in command, but supposedly aspiring to be the leader of the gang. And when the leader of Devil's Tyrants abandoned the group, Mallory evidently seized his opportunity to create a run-off of the gang, with himself as the leader."

Reid couldn't respond; he was shaking a bit to badly for his voice to come out steady enough that Garcia wouldn't notice. His eyes were glued to her computer screen, for she had just brought up a picture of Mallory; he looked exactly like the person he'd seen before in the bullpen. The one who had acted like he was a janitor, even though no one had hired anyone new in the past six months. Reid could even remember the feel of Mallory's eyes on his back, the paralyzing feeling that had gripped him so powerfully…

Reid didn't notice the strange look Garcia was giving him; his only thought was that he had to get out of here. He had to get back home, where it was safe. With a muttered,

"I'm gonna go get some sleep… I'll… be back tomorrow and we'll discuss this with the rest of the team…" Reid quickly left the tech room before Garcia could stop him.

*** * ***

Reid fidgeted with his hands on the steering wheel; he was sitting at a red light, on a deserted road, at night… Shivering, Reid tried to block out the darkness as he focused on the red light above him. Why wasn't it turning? Shaking his head, Reid forced himself to think logically. It wasn't taking any longer than normal to change to green, it was just his growing anxiety that caused him to think it was taking longer than it really was.

Still, that thought didn't stop him from glancing nervously at his watch, and what he saw gave him a small start. The light was taking that long to change; he'd been sitting here for five minutes.

Okay, calm down, he told himself. Glancing in the rearview mirror, Reid looked for anyone at all, and when he didn't see anyone, he slowly let up on the gas, then turning back to face frontward. And he slammed on the breaks. Someone had driven out into the road, right in front of Reid's car. But the truck wasn't moving. It was just… sitting there, blocking his way. And his eyes…

Reid started shivering convulsively when he realized he had the undeniable feeling of being watched again, and suddenly found himself surrounded by six or seven men. Still shaking, Reid threw a glance to the rearview mirror again, but his path backward was being blocked by a pick up truck as well. Suddenly fumbling around like a madman, Reid quickly locked his car doors and placed the car in park, moving into the middle of the seat and curling up, hoping they wouldn't be able to get in.

But of course, that didn't stop them. Reid flinched terribly as loud crashes sounded out as hard object hit the windows of Reid's locked car and glass went flying everywhere. Hands reached into the car and unlocked the doors.

And then the hands were on his body. Pulling him, _dragging _him out of the car and onto the rough pavement. Several kicks found his stomach and his arms and legs, and once or twice he felt himself being hit in the head with what felt like a baseball bat. He was coughing and gagging, desperately trying and failing to catch his breath, his ears ringing and his skull throbbing. And then he heard a low voice, one that sounded eerily similar to the man's who had spoken to him a few mornings ago, speak up.

"That's enough."

And with that, the beating stopped, and Reid was left to cough and sputter, trying to lift himself off the ground but failing miserably. His vision was blurred with tears of pain, but he could see red on the ground where he lay and made the grave assumption that it was his blood he was seeing. But he didn't have that long to look at it, as something hit the back of his head again, this time causing bright white stars to explode in his line of sight, and then everything was black.

*** * ***

Reid awoke to the horrible sensation of being dragged by his hair along a rough, craggy ground that tore and ripped at his shirt and the skin on his back, causing him to yelp out in pain. His arms flew up to trying and loosen the grip on his hair, but he soon found that his wrists were bound together with some kind of rope, and that the grip was too tight. Slowly, Reid became aware of laughter around him, but he couldn't see anyone. Blinking quickly, Reid's breathing hitched to a dangerous level as he realized he couldn't see anything. Had he suddenly gone blind…!?

But then his hands slipped from the grip on his hair, something wet and sticky covering his hands and he felt a piece of cloth that was tied around the upper portion of his face. So he was blindfolded… Even though the information didn't really help with his fears, it gave him a little solace that he hadn't gone blind. What would he have done if his entire world was the exact blackness he feared so terribly…?

Swallowing convulsively, Reid suddenly felt the grip on his hair loosen, and then he hit the ground, pain exploding through his already throbbing skull, making him cry out in pain once more. But his cry was only met with more laughter, and the eerie sound of a heavy door being opened. Then the hand that had been dragging him found his hair once more, and he was dragged into what he had to assume was another room. Then he was picked up and plopped down into what felt like a wooden chair, sitting on several bruises and making him yelp and squirm. But several pairs of hands were on his body, holding him down and still, and then another length of rope was tied around his middle.

They were binding him to the chair and he couldn't do a damn thing about it…! Reid opened his mouth to try and scream, but before he could he felt a fist find it's way to Reid's jaw, pain exploding through his head again and threatening to take him under again. But Reid found himself hanging on, and therefore felt the pain when his tied hands were suddenly grabbed and yanked over his head and behind his back, his shoulders popping with the unusual movement. This time, Reid got a full blown scream in before he was hit again, this time by a bigger hand that just about knocked his jaw out of place as well.

Pain was throbbing through every single portion of his body when they finally finished tying him to the chair. Laughter was still sounding out around him, and Reid was trying, however feebly, to brace himself for more pain to come. But the only thing that happened was his shoes and socks were taken from his feet, and then the blindfold was removed.

And in the blurry light from the hallway they had just come from, Reid saw eight men standing before him, all looking equally fierce and sadistic, grinning from ear to ear at his pain. And then they were filing out of the small room, the only person remaining being the man who had talked to him before. But because of Reid's blurry vision, he couldn't really make out the man's features when he leaned down, saying lowly,

"This is what you get, agent. You'll be our message to the rest of the FBI."

"M-message…?" Reid croaked out through a dry and cracked throat.

"Not to mess with DT."

But before Reid could even think of replying, the man stood up again and moved out the door, closing it heavily behind him. And then darkness surrounded him… complete… utter darkness… Reid's breathing hitched as he started struggling at his binds, but cried out in pain as his struggling only made his body hurt worse. Tears finally falling from his eyes and down his cheeks, Reid continued to struggle against the ropes despite the pain, trying desperately to get free. He _had _to get free… he just _had _to….

Taking a deep breath, he tried to scream,

"Help me!"

But no one answered his cracked exclamation. In fact… thinking about it, he doubted his team even knew he was here… They didn't even think he'd been serious when he'd said someone was following him… And now he was all alone…

Tears were falling heavily down Reid's cheeks with no end at the prospect of dying in this dark pit.

Someone had to save him… they _had to…_

*** * ***

_Extra A/N : Alrighty, my fans, I must say I am sorry, but I'm going to take a short break from writing. Probably no more than a few days, I promise, so don't be over worried when I don't post anything new for a while. I found this chapter a bit hard to write because I couldn't focus, and I want to try and be at my best for you loyal fans. Thanks for being such great sports._

_- Lyon_


	7. BAU POV 2

A/N : I'm Baaaack!!! ~ *Creepy voice* LOL. {SORRY! Somehow they must have gotten mixed up, HERE'S the real Seventh Chapter. x_x SORRY!}

*** * ***

**_February 7th__, 2007._**

Four A.M. Four in the fucking morning and all they had to go on was Reid's vandalized car. Hotch leaned against a building, using his arm to pillow his already aching head. Why couldn't he have believed Reid before…?

Hotch shivered; even through the thickness of the black winter coat, the cold temperature of 3 degrees was still easily felt. He already had several squad cars out and searching for any signs of their youngest agent, their sirens blaring loudly in the cold night air. His agents, however, were trying to profile the evidence left in the car. Namely, the note with one single line.

_This is what you get._

Sucking in a breath, Hotch knew he had to be strong or the rest of the team would fall apart, and so he pushed off the wall, then moving slowly back to the group, who were staring at Reid's car with a mixture of anger and horror on their faces. Addressing Morgan, Hotch spoke up softly.

"Alright, tell me what you have."

Morgan nodded, but refused to look away from the car as he stated,

"Reid had locked the doors from the inside. We know this because only the two front doors were open; the two back doors weren't. With the way the windows were beat in, I have to assume that they reached in and unlocked it, cause there's no way Reid would get out on his own unless it was at gun point, and then he'd only need to unlock one door, not two."

"We also assume he was dragged from the inside of the car out the passenger side door, because of not only the pool of blood that's still fresh…" Prentiss had to swallow before continuing, "But because there were bits of his shirt on the belt buckle that had most likely been ripped when he was forced out of the vehicle."

Rossi moved back to the group at that point, having been a few feet away, studying something on the ground as he then said,

"There are skid marks on the ground both behind and in front of where Reid's car is. This suggests he was corralled in, unable to escape. So assuming there was only one driver for each of the vehicles, and at least two men to vandalize Reid's car, drag him out of said car, and incapacitate him enough to take off with him, we're looking at the very least four men, approximately. If not more."

Hotch nodded, then looked at J.J., asking softly,

"And the note…?"

J.J. blinked back her tears as she fumbled for the note that she'd lain on the hood of the battered car, not wanting to touch it more than she had to and read it aloud to them again before saying,

"It's… very vague, but it leads me to believe this was really DT that's been going around killing people." J.J. then said, Hotch having explained to the entire team about DT on the short trip to the deserted road after they'd gotten the call that Reid's car had been found. "It's my opinion that capturing Reid was… like a warning to us to stay off their backs. Like this is what we deserved for even looking into the case. They're probably self righteous or extremist religious. Most likely the person who wrote this was narcissistic, and the fact that they printed the letters shows that the man who wrote this wanted his message to be extremely clear. His short spacing in between words and small letters, however, tell me he feels oppressed. The upward slant is at odds with his font, however, as it show's he's optimistic.

"I believe this means that he feels this is all for the better cause, or at least a better cause for himself. Probably a man in his late twenties, early thirties, no job or if he has one, he doesn't hold it in good standing and is about to be fired or quit."

Hotch nodded, but then Rossi was speaking again.

"These guy's seem to have a lot of rage in them. I mean, they had Reid trapped. Where could he have gone? And everyone around here knows the kid couldn't fight his way out of a wet paper bag; hell, he's as tiny and thin as a light pole. So why would they stick around to damage his car so much when they just could have grabbed him and left?" Then without waiting, Rossi answered his own question. "It's because all of this… _all_ of it was a message to us. And it says to me, 'You're getting to close to figuring out it's us and who we are.' It's a scare tactic. I think we should go back to what we were previously reviewing and see if there's anything we missed on the first go-around."

But while Rossi's voice was calm and collected, Morgan suddenly lashed out, kicking Reid's punctured and flat tire.

"When we find these fuckers, I'm gonna put a bullet in each and every one of their heads." he spit out.

Not even Hotch, however, could find it in himself to berate Morgan for his outburst. Hotch had an increasingly dangerous feeling that this would be the straw that broke the camel's back.

Very literally.

*** * ***

_**9:31 AM**_

J.J. walked into the bullpen, still fighting back tears as hard as she possibly could. She knew she had to stay focused enough to check through records they'd found before with Garcia, but her brows furrowed slightly as she walked into the tech room, and her ears were met with the sound of a phone ringing. Moving a bit further into the room, J.J. saw Garcia leaning back in her chair, tears soaking her cheeks as she rocked back and forth, the screens around her forgotten.

Hesitating, J.J. finally moved forward and laid a hand on Garcia's shoulder, startling her slightly.

"O-oh… J.J., I-I'm sorry…" Garcia stuttered out sadly, but J.J. shook her head.

"Don't be sorry, we're all at a loss… Why's your phone ringing…?"

But J.J.'s question only seemed to cause Garcia to cry a bit more as she mumbled out a,

"It's not… my phone that's ringing… I dialed Reid's number and… and he's not answering and… may-maybe if he just didn't realize that it was ringing, or vibrating, or… or…" Garcia's voice cracked and then she simply stopped talking, closing her eyes tightly and trying to calm herself.

How could this have ever happened to sweet, innocent Reid…? Sensing Garcia's inner turmoil, J.J. laid the files on the desk for just a few moments before wrapping her arms comfortingly around Garcia. And for a while, the two just embraced, grieving for the loss of a good friend whom they may never see again.

*** * ***

_**6:28 PM**_

Prentiss and Morgan were sitting in the local police department, looking over the street cams, checking to see if they had caught any of Reid's assailants on camera. Unfortunately for them, it seemed as if all of the cams had been taken out around one in the morning, and resumed service at one thirty.

"These sons-of-bitches are good…" Morgan said through his teeth, trying to restrain himself from lashing out at the computer he was watching.

"I'll say. They had to cut off the cameras before Reid got there, hide, then block Reid off, incapacitate him, vandalize his car, and leave before the cameras came back on. That's quite a feat for just thirty minutes." Prentiss replied, placing the current recording on pause as she turned to face Morgan, her eyes drooping and the downward curve of her mouth showing him how tired and weary she was.

Shaking his head, Morgan returned his eyes to the computer screen he was supposed to be watching and just about leaped out of his chair, grabbing Prentiss by the arm and yanking her closer so she could see the screen. On it, was Reid's car, just pulling into the line of sight. Evidently, those 'sons-of-bitches' had missed a camera, and they were about to watch Reid's kidnapping from a head-on view.

_*** * ***_

_Extra A/N : Another chapter up! Hope you liked it, and don't forget to keep those reviews coming! Thanks again for waiting on my break, but I feel it was needed, and that now I'm able to focus slightly better on my writing after getting a few other things out of the way in my life._

_- Lyon_


	8. BAU POV 3

_A/N: Sigh. Okay. There's one, been a lot going on in my life lately, so I have kind of gotten off the story line. Don't get me wrong, I've tried several times to try and save it, get back to where I was going with it, but it just doesn't seem to hold much appeal to me any longer. However, for the sake of my fans, which I thank with all my heart for trying their best to get me writing again, I will continue this story to the best of my ability. I hope not all of you have lost faith in me, and will continue to read and review regardless of my long absense. Love you all. ~ And don't forget to pay attention to the dates; they make sense where there's nothing but a mess. xD_

**_February 7, 2007. 6:41 PM_**

There was no sound at all to the video Morgan and Prentiss stumbled upon, and yet every single gruesome detail stood out as though it were being played over and over again in mere seconds. Prentiss stared, mouth agape, at the scene as it unfolded before her on the small screen; the way the trucks had corraled Reid in, his being forcibly dragged from the passenger side and hitting his head upon the pavement, the grotesque beating of the defenseless man, and it was then that Prentiss's profiling side started to kick in. In all the aftermath of the gore and shock, she knew she had a job to do. Morgan was probably already way ahead of her in this particular buisness by now, but she could make up for lost time. Her eyes locked upon crucial details as she tried to ignore the rolling of her stomach.

There had been eight men all together; two weilding tire irons, that they used to mercilessly beat Reid's car with. Over excessive anger; brutal and violent in every action. But there was one who stood out, who simply stood back and watched, though every time his mouth moved, issuing orders probably, the men around him would respond in a timely fashion. They weren't scared of him; they respected him. These men followed him willingly. But more importantly than anything like that? They now had a clear shot of each of these guy's faces for Garcia. Prentiss turned to glance at Morgan, but he'd already flipped his cell open; he truely was more on the ball than she this evening..

**_February 10, 2007._**

Garcia's fingers were flying. Quite literally. Words were appearing, probably around thousands every second, screens popping up here and there and everywhere. But none of these factors hindered Garcia; instead, she was actually enthralled at the pace, because every second ( Hopefully ) brought her closer to finding their young boy genius by matching the last places all Eight men, ( Garcia didn't want to know their names; she'd rather them be nameless shadows that needed to be taken down rather than as true people. ) had been in the last three years. It was taking far longer than she wanted; she'd already been at it for about three days, and her eyelids were starting to droop every now and then. She combated this with her usual vigor and what she liked to call Garcia Determination.

She was getting closer, and yet no where at all. When she found one lead, it lead to either nothing, or something that not all the members were in on. Dead ends, essentially. She knew she wasn't looking hard enough, she couldn't have been, otherwise she would have found something by now. But she supposed her Chocolate God of Thunder had been right yesterday; even a Miracle Worker could only do so much most of the time. But damn it, this was one of those times she was going to pull through!

Her sudden determination was startled by a click of the door behind her opening. Hyped up as she was, she spun around in her office chair quickly, her optics flying back to the door only to rest upon Hotch; who was staring at her with something akin to pity.

"Garcia.. You really should take a break. Get some sleep."

She answered with a pout, and despite her will to keep any whining pitch out of her voice, she could still hear her own plea.

"Sir.. I can do this. I just need a little more time, just a little- "

He cut her off then and there with a wave of his hand, and that hard set look of his jaw and eyes. Garcia knew such a look; he'd made his decision and he wasn't to be swayed.

"Garcia, get some sleep."

And that was the end of that.

**_February 12, 2007_**

" We're running out of time, and it's like all we're doing is just spinning our wheels! " Morgan cried.

It wasn't so much of a yell as it was a whispered plea for some kind of luck to come their way. Morgan and Prentiss were sitting in the bullpen, basically nothing to do while Garcia continued to run her checks. It was around the evening time, and it seemed as though the days just drug on; days that Reid could be dying, or even dead already. It was with that thought that Morgan slammed his fist down on the desk, startling Prentiss and causing her to jump. She however, said nothing; she was too caught up in her own thoughts about trying to save their boy genius, despite the odds.

It was Hotch that finally saved them from their thoughts and spiraling depression and anger; coming out of Garcia's computer room where he'd spent most of his time, looking over her shoulder, observing quietly. His voice cut across the bullpen and brought both Morgan and Prentiss to full attention,

"We have a few hits; get ready, we're going to check them out."

Morgan and Prentiss were out of their chairs in seconds.


	9. BAU POV 4

_A/N: Alright fans, sorry again for the long wait, but here's another installation. Also, special thanks to RavenParadox, who, despite my being five days late in posting to such an awesome review, inspired me to try and get back into this story with a passion. I hope I'm not dragging things out or being to quick with anything. And I hope all you other fans are enjoying this story still despite the wait you've had to endure. Thanks for everything!_

**February 16th, 2007.**

Hotch was nearing his own breaking point, and had a nagging fear that it was not only he who was ready to simply grab a gun and start shooting. Of course, his training prevented him from taking such a course of action, but that didn't stop his want one bit, nor the fear that Morgan would shoot the next thing that moved. They'd just hit another one of the houses that Garcia had traced back to one of the newer members of Dire Trouble, but it was empty when Hotch, Rossi, Morgan and Prentiss got there. Not surprising, considering how stealthy and informed these guys seemed to be. Maybe they were going about this the wrong way.. Hotch just couldn't think straight. He was running on coffee and adrenaline, and neither were getting him very far on this life or death case. His own team member was in trouble and he couldn't do anything to save him..!

... No. He had to focus. Hotch gave himself a mental shake for allowing his feelings to get the better of him. He'd have time for pity later.

After he saved Reid.

**2:29 PM**

Rossi flipped open the cell that had just started vibrating in his pocket. Hotch sat beside him in the driver's seat of one of their black SUV's, and Prentis and Morgan sat solemnly in the backseat, probably wracking their brains for anything they were missing; just as he was. His voice was exasperated as he answered a quick,

"Rossi. "

But that exasperation quickly became hope as Garcia's chirping tone filled his ears. He didn't even think to put her on speakerphone; what she was saying was such salvation to his heart.

" I figured it out! Mallory Hedrickson, that owner of the bar I told you all about before? Turns out I finally got a lead on him. He moved into a two bedroom, one bathroom house that - get this - is just five streets down from the BAU office! But that's not all, check this out! The city's records show that this particular house had an underground passage cut out from the basement, deeper and longer, and the fines were so big that the person who lived there first, a James Tarman, was literally sued out of said home because the fines for such an action were too big. Mallory moved in just two weeks later.

" It's also been reported a few times of screams coming from the vacinity of this house, though police have failed to verify such claims. "

Rossi couldn't hold in his comment any longer, which simply got the attention of all three people in the van.

" Garcia, you're a genius! "

To this, the woman on the other end of the phone chuckled, and replied quickly,

" No, Reid is the genius. Now go save him this time, already. I've already sent the coordinates for the house to your cell. "

The line clicked and went dead, but Rossi didn't care. He had what he wanted and needed and hopefully, he'd have Reid too. He turned to relay such information to Hotch, who soon had the gas pedal down as far as it would go.

**6:46 PM**

Voices could be heard down the right corridor. Hotch, Morgan, Rossi and Prentiss had infultrated the seemingly silent house, found a hidden doorway in the basement that led down to this tunnel, only to come to a V in the passage. Hotch had to make a decision fast; Morgan's finger looked like it would push down on the trigger of his gun at any time, and every second he wasted could mean Reid's death. Finally, his command was whispered.

" Prentiss, you're with me. Rossi, Morgan, take the right path. Prentiss and I'll take the left. "

With a nod from his teammates, the group was in motion.

He just hoped they weren't too late.


	10. Chapter 6

_A/N: And this is where I'll start Mixing. It's titled under a regular chapter, but it does have some BAU POV in it too. Thanks again to all who reviewed, and I hope this rather quick chapter considering how long you've had to wait for installations before shows you how much your reviews really mean to me. Thanks so much! 3_

**February 16th, 2007**

**BAU POV**

**11:48 PM**

Prentiss' feet hurt so much, it felt like the soles were outright bleeding. Still, she kept her position, slightly crouched, with her gun pointed out in front of her, and sometimes behind her and Hotch incase there was someone following them. Still, it didn't look like they had anyone on their tails, and as the path continued amazingly on, so did they. Hotch hadn't said a word yet, and neither was Prentiss going to. If a little pain was all it took to get to Reid, she'd gladly take this walk seven times over. All that mattered was there was a friend, a partner on the line. And damn it, she was going to save him!

That didn't stop her feet from hurting any less, though.

**February 17th, 2007**

**Reid's POV**

**12:01 AM**

Reid shivered convulsively. He couldn't bare to open his eyes, not that he'd see much of anything if he did. His breathing was shallow, and his stomach's grumbling mingled with the blood rushing in his ears. Unfortunately, he could still hear all too clearly the footsteps coming closer and closer to his door, echoing ominously. He would either be saved, or condemned now. It was a 1.87369426948 chance that he might actually make it out alive, the same statistic that he might be hit by a shark.

... or was that lightning? No, getting bit by a shark was a 1.943... Reid shook his head. He couldn't even recall the statistics right with his mind in such a panic. Who was he then if he didn't have his numbers? A geek who could read super fast and trip over his own shoes whenever someone talked to him? A screw up FBI agent who got taken hostage almost every other mission?

Reid's tears were blurring what vision he might have had when the calm seeming footsteps stopped. They were close.. so close.. Reid had never prayed much. He hadn't seen the point in it, from a logical standpoint. There couldn't be a god; he couldn't see him, he couldn't touch him, he had no proof of these miracles bestowed upon humanity because of 'him'. But despite all this, he prayed now. He prayed that somehow he'd get out of this. That some how, the genius luck that made him so good at magic would come through and save him from Dire Trouble.

The door opened. Reid caught what breath he had left and ducked his head as far as he could; not that it would make any difference were they to shoot him in the head. His arms lashed upward at the chains that restrained him, trying to find some way to cover his head. He whimpered loudly. And then a voice that sounded so amazingly good to his ears sounded out above him, seconds before hands were at the chains, trying in some way to break them or loose them.

It was the voice of Prentiss.

" Oh my god, Reid! "

" Easy, Prentiss, don't do that, you're going to tighten them. " Hotch suddenly informed her, as she pulled at one, causing the chain to dig into Reid's arm and make him wince.

Reid wracked his brain for something to say. He knew they were waiting on him to say something; to do something. To tell them some kind of stats or statistics or even an unknown fact thta would let them know he was alright. Unfortunately, he could only croak out the first thing that came to his mind.

" I'm hungry.. "

Hotch and Prentiss gave dry chuckles, but they were cut off quickly by the sounds of gunshots being fired. Hotch gave Prentiss a grim look, but said nothing.

**BAU POV**

**12:03 AM**

Rossi's hand hesitantly lowered to Morgan's back. The muscled man flinched slightly, but didn't turn his still smoking gun on the senior agent behind him. His eyes were deadlocked on the white hues of one of the five men lying dead in the middle of the floor. Rossi thought Morgan was owed his due; yes he shot the five men. But in reality, it was self defense, as after a long bout of conversation, threats, bargins, more threats, and then the attempt to overwhelm the agents and take their lives, Morgan had finally fired five shots. All of them hitting their marks; all of the men falling.

Giving a small sigh, Rossi allowed his hand to fall from Morgan's back as he turned toward the door they'd had to come through all that time ago just to confront these bastards that had taken Reid. But as Rossi's hand laid on what was the doorknob, it wouldn't turn. He pressed, pushed, pulled, jerked, and even slammed his foot against the door once, which got Morgan's attention. Thankfully, however, the action did bring Morgan out of what might have been a very bad, spiraling mood, as he moved toward the door and gently moved Rossi out of the way.

" Here, let me do that. "

But no matter how Morgan himself attacked the door, it wouldn't open.

" Come on man... It's stuck! " Morgan exclaimed.

" Easy, hold on, let me try something. " Rossi said softly, his brows furrowed as he thought about their new situation.

Reaching into his pocket, Rossi flipped out his phone, but only for more disappointment. No bars.

They were stuck down here; they were now the ones in need of rescuing.


End file.
